Dabbling with Poetry, Drode Style
by T.B. Stormshot
Summary: Just a few poems I came up with, all are based pretty much on that lovable little prune. So if you don't like him... you don't have to read these. I need reviews to tell me how I'm doing, new at poetry... need input


DABBLING WITH POETRY, DRODE STYLE  
  
By: Tornadobuster a.k.a. Wind_sifter  
  
I don't own the Animorphs, I don't own the Drode. And you should all know, he is my favorite character in the whole damned series. Not kidding. Rachel's my second favorite but she doesn't even come CLOSE. Rachel's bloodthirsty, but the Drode's got finesse and that quirky sense of sarcastic humor, and that's basically why I like him, plus he's evil. I like evil characters for some reason, a lot of'em go up in my top four lists. They're either evil or they USED to be evil. Oh yeah...   
  
This is basically just me dabbling with poetry, I'm not the greatest at this stuff, I got a friend that is. But I'm not myself, it's all about the Drode, the first one is maybe not TOTALLY from the Drode's perspective, but the rest is. The third one is a bit odd, I don't like it for some reason, a bit eery. Last one I think is the best, just cuz I like it so much... read, review. I don't need a LOT of reviews, just enough to tell me if I'm going in the right direction or not. Tell me what you REALLY think, and don't you DARE try to mellow down bad reviews, I NEED those things to tell me where I AM!!!  
  
And by the way, if I can, I try not to do rhymes too much, just rythm... and there ain't too much of that...  
  
  
  
NO SOUL, NO WORRIES  
  
Never talk of the days of the past, for all is said and gone,  
And though memories may linger, we must pay no attention,  
those past lives are an ended song,  
For we have a new master now, and he tolerates no free mind,  
we must show no mercy,   
no imagination,  
and no soul,  
but only a single-minded drive for the CAUSE,  
the cause,  
to obliterate everything, every star, every planet, and every living being,  
this is the cause.  
And though dreary and depressing and a wonder of what will become of US when we win,  
In the end, the want, the NEED, of belonging, will always be,  
for to be part of the GROUP,  
to be taken care of,  
to never have to worry... or think.  
Comfort is what the people want,  
and that is what they will get,  
Our master is evil,  
and perhaps quite wrong,  
but we must remember,  
That to be taken under Crayak's wing,   
is to be cared for.  
  
  
  
NEVER FORGET  
  
I am fear and I am hate,  
Evil gives my hunger sate.  
But though I give nightmares to those I meet,  
I'll never forget that I too, have fears to defeat,  
I can not forget that I too, serve a master of great,  
And that he will never forget what I do,  
And that he will never forgive what I've done,  
And though, day by day, I may sit by my master's side,  
It will never make me an equal,  
I am a slave too,  
And I too, must tread softily when he is near and by,  
for I musn't forget, that I can just as easily die,  
And that my fate is sealed.  
  
  
  
OPEN THE DOOR, BUT SOFTILY  
  
Softily now, dear Drode,  
We musn't wake the dear Master now shall we?  
He would never forgive us for disturbing him,  
now shant he?  
  
Softily now, dear Drode,  
Tiptoeing towards the closed door,  
Using the key, unlocking the lock,  
careful now, quiet.  
  
Softily now, dear Drode,  
It would never do,  
to let our dear master know,  
life doesn't always revolve around him.  
  
Softily now, dear Drode,  
Be quiet,  
As we twist the golden handle,  
And push the door open,  
  
Softily now, dear Drode,  
As we step into a world of wonders,  
where anything can happen,  
and you are free.  
  
Softily now, dear Drode,  
As your eyes widen at the sights,  
that only your eyes see,  
at the thoughts of what YOU might wish.  
  
Softily now, dear Drode,  
As you dream of things,  
that only come true,  
when the master is asleep.  
  
Now dear Drode, softily,  
for the master stirs uneasily,  
and you must retreat, back into the shadows,  
to wait.  
  
Softily now dear Drode,  
for despite your rank,  
and despite your power,  
you are still a slave.  
  
  
  
MY THOUGHTS ON LOVE  
  
Being a being of pure evil, I've never felt that power,  
the one they all call love,  
I've heard that it can bend a person to do its will, to do things they hate and loathe  
Make them fight, make them get involved, eat or wear things they despise,  
all for this little emotion, this trinket of the mind,  
I once deduced, long ago, that it was a sham,  
Because certainly, if not even the great Crayak, my lord and master could feel it,  
of course it could not be real.  
But yet,  
I have watched time and again, people doing the oddest things for this thing called love,  
people heroically fighting armies,  
retrieving things from the farthest suns in space,  
and even giving up their lives,  
I watched the memory of "love" that ruined the Howlers,  
and I wondered,  
perhaps,  
this love is not what it seems,  
and it perhaps works at a different level,  
one that is beyond that of even the great Crayak,  
and I wonder,  
If perhaps there is a greater power, one that is impossible to break,  
behind this preposed emotion.  
I thought it did not exist,  
But certainly it must for I have seen what it can do,  
and I wonder,  
what must this emotion FEEL like?  
  
  
  
PLAYING IN THE GAME  
  
You're cute Rachel, you really are,  
The Animorphs dance and they sing,   
like clowns really, clowns wearing funny suits and squeaky red noses,  
with painted red smiles and tufts of orange hair sticking out in wild clumps,  
handing colorful balloons out to the children,  
and clumsily pulling stunts that people only laugh at,  
at least in my eyes,  
But you however, are not quite like the others,  
you are not a clown, you do not dance or sing.  
You, on the other hand, play, you play in the exciting and breath taking game of death,  
and that is what fascinates me so,  
that one such as you would turn up in a group, in a WORLD of pacifistic fools.  
You play, when those surrounding you can only dance, and can only sing.  
This fascinates me,   
and by the way dear Rachel, you should know that I play the game too,  
I often dabble in the game of death,  
And know right now, that I have more skill in the game then you ever will,  
but still, you quite fascinate me,  
time and time again, I have tempted you to come deeper into the game,  
with REAL players, and to learn the strategies you would never have DREAMED about,  
in your own pitifully small world.  
But time and time again, you have said "no" to me, sometimes strongly, and other times barely.  
But every time excites me more then the last.  
It excites me that you are strong enough to stand up to ME,  
someone who could easily attach strings to you, and lead you along like a maronette,  
Or kill you before you even freeze in shock.  
It excites me, and perhaps unnerves me as well, the tiniest fraction of a bit,  
that I cannot even extrude my will upon the youngest of children.  
Oh well,  
One must not dwell on the past, only on the future,  
and know this dear Rachel, I have plans for your future,  
Crayak wants you Rachel,  
and to tell you the truth, I do too.  
I like you Rachel, I really do, you are so cute when you're angry. 


End file.
